Conscience
by Wachichas
Summary: Stories and situations which follow a story-line where Momonga IS Momonga; further elaboration: He still remains as a Player Avatar, and continues to exist without the influence of Suzuki Satoru. The result: One that is entirely unexpected. No-Nazarick, for reasons.
1. Chapter 1

**Conscience**

**Stories and situations which follow a story-line where Momonga IS Momonga; further elaboration: He still remains as a Player Avatar, and continues to exist without the influence of Suzuki Satoru. The result: One that is entirely unexpected. No-Nazarick, for reasons.**

**Very weird that no one did this before. Consider this as a late Christmas present.**

**Further elaboration: Momonga essentially was a doll just before being brought to the New World, with nothing else but his spells, staff and power, he struggles to fit into a world where his entire existence is repudiated and chased to extinction.**

**This chapter focuses in not only his beginnings, but his first principles and long-lived quirks that suspiciously are very similar to one certain salary-man.**

**I recommend you to read this while listening to this song in a loop:**  
** watch?v=EJLNLWv-nmM**  
** (I think this version of Guts' theme actually resonates with this Momonga's lifestyle, if only for a bit)**

Prologue: In this world full of life

Before coming to life, or, better said, 'un-life', he was… "asleep", for a lack of a better synonym.

Momonga did not know what he did during that lapse of time – which he felt was a long time ago indeed, nor how, nor why.

But something was certain: whatever kind of dream, or existence, or whatever kind of deity or supernatural force decided to conceive him, they did not half-ass his creation: why of course, with the humongous sense of power he wielded in each, ringed finger.

And the silky robes that caressed his arms, his shoulders, his spine… and the magical knowledge of seemingly a thousand sages.

However… he felt hollow, as he stared towards the night's sky.

He didn't know what was magic, nor didn't he know what was silk.

Standing upon a grassy plain, which he had never saw before, nor did he even know what grass was in the first place, only that he knew that _it_ was, the Overlord was surrounded in a small, encapsulated state of idle thought and reflection.

_'Who am I? What have I done, to go through this eternity of uncertainness?'_ The Overlord was neither surprised nor unsurprised of his… admittedly curious vocabulary, but that was beside the point, and he did not know the answer to that question.

For a long and long time he stood there, silent, obliviously staring at the wildflowers with reddish orbs of total undeath, feeling the muffled, yet utterly baffling sensation of bones scraping against his bony fingers, and the slick, cool feeling of the golden, twisted staff gripped in his left hand.

He did not know what this Staff was; only that he felt himself becoming affectionate towards it, and consequently surged a sudden, mysterious sense of longing and sadness as he further stared at it, which didn't last long, due to his undead nature.

For another moment, one lacking any kind of eventfulness and distractions, Momonga stood quietly, staring indolently at his surroundings. And then, a very interesting thing – at least in his eye-sockets - happened before him.

A small rabbit ran from some place hidden in the gigantic expanse of green, darting itself through the grass with rapid hops. Its presence, utterly inexistent, its life pointless in the eyes of many, and its uncertain, useless future – it all captivated Momonga.

For as small its life it can be, it had purpose, it had a drive… something that just a while ago - that just felt like an eternity for the Overlord - he lacked. It was, thanks to such a small and powerless animal, that he then found the irresistible urge to solve a very huge mystery in his eyes:

_'Why do I exist?'_

He then made his first steps, as the urge then coursed through his hollow body, feeding into his core like blistering coals into a furnace.

_'What is my purpose?'_

The Staff's contact with the earth was silent as his own footsteps, but the vibration and the strength which he used to grip it was resonating from his arm towards his chest, and then his legs, and to his skull. Momonga stared at the sky again, this time now glaring at it with something similar to… determination.

The Overlord walked through the plain, as he mulled over that question, always coming with a lack for an answer, frustrated.

He didn't realize that, with each step he took towards the completion of his dilemma, he immediately ended the life surrounding the place where his foot made contact.

His mind was gradually whirling with magical theories and experiments, and something like the painting of a great castle, surrounded by equally large buildings etched itself at the front of his mind.

Yet he pushed the covered ambition down, deigning it as a shallow thing – a product of a wild, pointless imagination.

The Overlord, a walking contradiction, an oblivious hypocrite even to himself, kept walking through the plains, reflecting on his seemingly small existence as he destroyed many others with the care of someone stepping on an ant.

But if the question came as to what he felt that day… he'd say he felt himself even lower than an ant. Because ants serve to their queen, they build, they protect, they maintain, they grow and evolve.

While he had no one to serve, he felt pointless, he destroyed with each step, he was stagnant, he was the antithesis of grow and he didn't evolve.

Maybe that was because ants have a purpose, while he didn't have at that day.

He found, rather quickly, as he stared at the two children's pale and lax horrified expressions, that he did not feel anything towards this… disturbing stillness in them.

A stillness he felt he could impose on others rather easily, and was undoubtedly unparalleled in making such a thing.

The feeling of… the void in this conglomerate of still-people was strong, yet not suffocating. It was like… refreshing. Yet he did not know why.

Momonga was realizing he essentially did not know anything that was not directly part of him; the grass and the silk being obvious examples.

Which was something that worried him, feeling so… ignorant of things, he wanted to stifle that worry, to get rid of it through any means necessary.

And he was shocked of such fervor in a thing that he felt moments ago not so important.

The fire, however, was indeed an uncomfortable and very sudden revelation of his unknown state; he did not know what it was, and what it did, but he didn't like it, and as such, he stood away from it. And so he opted to push the corpses around with his Staff instead.

The still-people were heavy, and their lack of reaction was sowing uneasiness in him – it was not the fact that they were still, but that he didn't know _why _they were like that, and _how_. Momonga did not question such a thought process, considering it as something normal.

As normal as something as he could be.

The Overlord heard weeping behind him, and confronted with such a sad, heart-rending sound, he just turned around, rather stupidly-looking, and glanced around, looking for the source.

And he discovered it under a pile of still-people; another one, but the obvious difference was that they were not still at all, with these sobs racking their whole body and the way their lips trembled violently…

…and the way their eyes widened almost impossibly at the sight of him looming over them, eye-sockets glaring straight into golden eyes…

"D-Death…" The moving one said, and he cocked his head, curious despite his complete oblivious apathy towards their suffering and anguish, and he swiftly said, against his will,

"Death? What is that, but just another empty word? No, I'm not death, my name is Momonga."

The moving one did not know what to say against his abrupt answer, and he didn't blame them, feeling confused to his uncalled verbal retaliation, but ultimately not feeling regretful about correcting the moving one's assumption about him.

"Please," they said after an uncomfortable moment of silence, struggling under the ashes and weight of what must be like ten still-people, "Please, I beg of you, help me…"

In another world, where he may not be himself but the container of another soul, and another mind, he would say otherwise…

…but this Momonga, while he did not know what was right or what was wrong, he complied their request, just because he hadn't a drive through all the night. And he could serve this one, if they would let him, at least temporally; to give him something to spend his existence on.

He crouched down – a weird sight for sure, with the awkward way his knees bulged under his robes and his humongous shoulder pads being a bit problematic –feeding further disbelief into the moving one's mind and expression.

And as he made to grip their outstretched arm and to pull them off the pile… the moving one screamed, as scorching marks appeared on the very same place his fingers brushed their skin.

Momonga jerked back, shocked, and the moving one cradled their arm with their other hand, betrayal and growing hatred pooling in their eyes… and he felt the need to compensate his wrongdoing.

"I apologize," he said with most honesty, but the way his grim form eclipsed the Sun and his deep voice sounded, the moving one's restlessness was not very assuaged by his words.

Momonga looked at his hand, feeling confused and troubled. 'Why can't I touch them? Is this something inherent to me? Am I so powerful that I just vaporize anything at close range?'

But it didn't feel like that, and Momonga tried to look for another way to circumvent this complication. And he found the easy solution: a switch on his mind appeared as he stared at his wrist, and with trepidation, he flipped it down – and the complete sureness that he wasn't dangerous anymore instilled itself in his mind.

Unbounded by hesitation, Momonga tried to grip the moving one's shoulder again, undeterred by their attempts to get away from him. And without any harm done to them, he pulled them off the mountain of still-people.

But he did not expect for them to break on tears and to slump to their knees.

It was with this feeling of half-success and half-failure that he stared the golden crown of hair of the moving one's head, and he stood there, his presence muted yet not unquieting for them.

It would be a long time until noon before they would recompose themselves.

"I'm Enri," They said, after they cleaned their face of mucus and tears, and Momonga easily remembered the name, and attached it to the moving one's look for the coming future.

"And as I said before, I'm Momonga," he replied, just to be sure – though he didn't know why bother, it was like that name meant too much for him that he couldn't properly explain it.

The moving one, Enri, stole a few shy glances from their bangs, their hands wringing in their lap, and Momonga stood still as a pole, looking straight at their eyes, unknowing of subtlety and being suave.

They remained like that for a while, not knowing how to proceed – for her part because she didn't even expect Death to come at her razed village and for his part Momonga did not know anything.

Until with one, brief surge of braveness, she asked, "Why are you here?" And promptly cowered even more, shrinking into herself and expecting a long, painful death.

Momonga, breaking her expectations, replied with honesty, "I don't know."

She looked back at him, genuinely puzzled, "Why won't you? It doesn't make sense."

He nodded, and then elaborated, "I only woke up since midnight, and I don't know where this is, or why I'm here, or even what I am." He didn't feel any remorse of not doing so, but certainly he won't resign himself to live like that.

Enri now openly stared at Momonga, slack-jawed and floored by the Lich's unexpected honesty. She was no expert on magic or necromancy, but knew that undead were much known for being mindless and preying on the living with no rest.

But this… this Lich was different.

"W-well, I don't know what to say…" She said lamely, but Momonga just nodded his head and then stood there, unmoving. Understandably uneasy, Enri squirmed in the spot, and then asked, "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Momonga said, and for the first time their conversation, he looked towards his hand, clenching it, and then said, "I don't know what I should do, or what I want."

Enri pursed her lips, the burden of loss and tragedy almost in the back of her mind as she stared at the Lich, "Well, do you even have an idea of…" She didn't know what she was even saying, "…no matter, I don't know what to do myself."

The fact weighed like lead in her stomach, and she gripped her hair with both hands. "I just lost my family, I don't have anyone else – I don't know what to do."

Momonga was silent, and after a moment, he said, "I do not know what it must feel like – losing a family, that is." He kept staring at her even though she wasn't looking at him anymore.

"But I think you should go on – I do not think you'd like to stay here."

Enri replied abruptly, "Well, I'd like to die here and right now!"

A moment of silence, and then, Momonga said, utterly serious, "Are you sure?"

She whipped her head at him, feeling dread at her foolish choice of words, especially considering what was before her, and she backpedalled furiously, "No! NO!... I – I don't want to die."

Momonga took a long moment staring at her again, and Enri was sure she'd be ignored and the undead would comply with his nature… but it didn't, and she calmed down gradually, as Momonga then cradled his chin.

"I know that many have an instinctual sense of survival, and you are no doubt one of these people," he started, much to her confusion, and he went on, "It is tightly bound to the wellbeing of others aside one's own, but it is too related to other attachments – whether they be spiritual, physical, or romantic."

Enri heard every single word, stunned by this Lich every time it talked, and Momonga then said, "I want you to think hard and through of what do you really want – do you want to die? Or do you have anything else to live for?"

The answer took time, but it ultimately came. "I – I think I feel something for someone," she felt complied to answer truthfully – what she knew if this undead was being serious in his questioning? What if it meant the difference between life and death?

Momonga nodded, and she knew she made the right choice. "Excellent, live with that."

_'Because comparing myself with you, I don't deserve to exist, at least now.'_

Both of them looked at each other, and it started as a seed, but it was there.

Enri didn't exactly believe of an unconditional friendship – that with the enmity between all the races… but until one day in the future, she may remember this, and we know what she may think about that.

Momonga didn't know anything about the meaning of understanding, until now.

_"Why do we exist in this world? Are we bound to destiny, or is destiny just a means to give a sense of meaning to our existence? Many think that I'm unbounded to reality – and, inevitably, to destiny._

_Somehow, looking back to what I was since the beginning… I can't say they are wrong."_

**My god, pretty much too many pretentious shit, but I wanted this fic to exist by any means.**

**So yeah! A Suzuki Satoru-less Momonga, and one character I can experiment with and one that can be entirely malleable to any kind of belief and reasoning. I think people should do this with other Avatars or hell, even NPCs.**

**See ya later folks! And happy late-Christmas!**

**Btw, could someone PM me? I'm in a dire need of a beta reader, seriously.**

**Burnt arm**


	2. The Will to Fight

Chapter1 – The will to fight

**The time comes for Enri to know about this mysterious Lich, and what are exactly his reasons for his prolonged presence… only for her to discover something about him in the process.**

**Thanks for all the reviews and favorites! I'm very glad you like this idea – I was nervous as fuck submitting this.**

**Anyways, on with the story!**

The village girl quickly took note how the Lich, Momonga, would trail behind her, as if curious about where she'll guide him to and clueless of the land around them, not recognizing the obvious line of trees of the Great Forest of Tobb.

Though she started to think that it made sense, the undead were not very known for being so… mindful, for a lack of a better word.

She rapidly realized that such cluelessness also meant that their travel was absolutely silent, for the most part.

The girl, now astray and longing for any sense of normalcy in her wrecked life, tried to seek comfort talking to this unpredictable creature. "I – I…" She started, not knowing what to say, until she tried to go with a normal, if very dumb question, "How old are you?"

Momonga looked at her from his position at the back, standing as a beacon of darkness between the earthly colors of Re-Estize's summer, and said, "I don't know," was his expected answer, but before Enri could even feel disappointed, he elaborated, "I feel so young, yet I know that the power I wield in these hands is nothing like that."

"Oh," she said, a little stunned by the solemn tone he had, but quickly recomposed herself as he asked her back, "And you? How old are you?"

She gripped her dress with both hands, quickly noting how her burned arm throbbed with pain, and she grimaced, "If I'm not wrong, I think I'm nineteen winters old," but it seemed that Momonga faintly heard her answer, staring at the grizzly marks on tanned skin.

Enri still didn't forgive the Lich for that, but she buried whatever disgust she held against him for her own safety. Who knows what kind of monstrosity he might turn her into, if she dared to say anything to him?

He may forgave her once, but that was because… well, because he was so confusing, when he should have just slaughtered her and be done with her. She didn't know what was he thinking, or planning, or even feeling with her.

"I must say, again, that I'm sorry," he said, faintly surprising her, and she turned her head towards him, still waking, and he stared at his hand again, and for the first time, Enri noticed the ringers that each fingers seemed to have. "I don't know how, or why, I have such a thing."

Enri didn't answer, and just opted to keep walking. Momonga didn't say anything else, and she was mildly comforted with that, yet still felt needy for conversation.

Gods, what did her life turn into?

The message of Thousand Miles Astrologer was disquieting, to say the least. Just after one day after taking care of Stronoff, they were already prepared to go back to the capital, but then a courier hastily made their way to him.

With orders to eradicate a stray member of Zurrernon, who may be taking advantage of the carnage that fool Bellius left behind.

Further information regarding this threat was that it took the appearance of a female blonde villager, and was not so discreetly followed by an Elder Lich.

They were now taking position in the adjacent Forest, possibly planning to make a dark ritual.

The men were promptly informed of such news, and Bellius' troops were entrusted to go towards the forest, where the monstrosity and its liege resided.

Of course, that didn't mean he would actually trust the man to take out the undead and the necromancer, so he sent thirty of his men to support them.

Nigun turned around from Stronoff's blanketed corpse, and stared right at the forest that expanded before them. And then, after a silent moment of examination – where did he look to? He didn't even know –he turned back to where the former Warrior Captain lied.

_'Such a waste,'_ he thought grimly, and with the slightest sympathy at the man's crippled body, _'A man of merit, even if he was lacking the favor of the Gods – such talent wasted to serve to the whims of heretic bureaucrats and a senile King.'_

He shook his head, and then nodded towards one of his men, who then called forth a pair of horses, which were pulling a small, modest carriage.

"Send him towards the outpost," he ordered, his voice covering any respect he may have to the dead man, "Be careful with the remains, he may be dead, but his soul still lingers; it might be on our best interest to not further disrespect him in any way,"

A curious question came from one of a pair of his men, "What are they going to do with him? Isn't our mission already done?"

Nigun ignored the first question to answer the other, "Our forces are close to what we suspect is an individual of the higher rows of Zurrernon, we are to take down this menace before it grows strong – and avoid further collateral casualties."

His men, always disciplined, took the words for granted, and didn't question him anymore.

Nigun turned around, and ordered the remaining troops to pick up, "We may have to move on; the King might have possibly deployed more forces towards our position."

And so, the Sunlight Scripture went to the forest's edge, cautious of any dark figure that may be hiding in the shadows, and praying for their comrades in arms to come back from the mission.

The sun was setting, and to the suggestion of Enri, both of them decided to rest, or well, as much as rest they could get.

Mainly because Enri was being harassed by nightmares, and because Momonga was deep in his thoughts, staring idly at the way the light of the flickering campfire's flames reflected over his Staff.

He then gripped it with both hands, and lifted it in front of him, staring at its long, twisted golden shaft until he was looking at the way the basket that was at its top was juxtaposing with the stars, and he was silent, both in mind and soul.

He still felt hollow, following this girl. Is this not his purpose? To follow, to talk and to listen? If not so, then what was it?

His mind provided no answer, and he stopped his spontaneous meditation for a bit, staring right at the girl's shivering form, accosted by the elements and the demons in her mind; the one he felt was indispensable in the search of his meaning, though Momonga didn't know anything about her.

Was it a requirement to find his purpose? To know further about this girl, as she earlier claimed when he addressed her as a 'they'?

He didn't know what he had to do, and this was a gradually frustrating fact that he unfortunately was becoming familiar with. But starting from tomorrow, he'd try his best, and surely he'll be even closer to answer his question.

However, Life wasn't kind to him that night…

…As then an arrow crushed itself against the steel-hard surface of his cloak, the shaft breaking in half and its pointy head becoming a mess of iron. Momonga, unfamiliar with such a thing, rose with the same placidness he seemed to have at all times, turning around towards where the arrow came.

And then, suddenly, a barrage of flaming arrows appeared from the shadows, sizzling themselves in Momonga's cloak or soaring over his head or besides him.

One of the arrows almost landed on Enri's head, and the force of its landing forced her awake, and the village girl almost fell on her rear twice as she noticed the flaming arrows in her grogginess.

"Wha- Bandits!" She said, immediately growing fearful, and she edged herself closer to Momonga's back, the Lich robes sucked the light of the flames as he stood silent, and he easily spotted the cause of such a disturbing surprise:

There were men covered in steel armor and clad in white clothes, some holding crossbows, others were holding swords, shields, maces, club, axes… and their stances were tense, anxious, as they looked at him.

Momonga didn't know what to feel, he didn't even know if he felt something, at being the possible cause of such agitation.

He gripped his Staff, the magical object needlessly serving him to ground himself, and he raised his voice, deep, but calm, even though a rising, and nameless sensation was welling in his core at the sight of the strange, arrow-throwing things. "Who are you?"

There was no reply to his question, but another barrage of arrows sought to try and lodge themselves in his skull, though none of them did so, as a faded, invisible dome seemed to envelop him, waving any arrows away from him.

The nameless sensation kept growing further, and Momonga felt his robes be gripped by Enri, who was now stuck behind him, and she trembled with renewed force, her eyes clenched shut. He slightly turned towards her, careful of not pushing her, and then turned back towards the men, who were now creeping towards him.

They seemed to be growing bolstered, though Momonga didn't know for what.

As he stared at the men shortening the space between him and themselves, Momonga felt, for the first time in his short existence, a boiling sensation that seemed to be fed by Enri's grip on his cloak.

"They were them – they were – they were," she kept mumbling, fear and terror puncturing her heart and pinning her on the spot. And being so close to Momonga meant that he listened and felt her, and while unknowing, the Lich was anything but stupid.

And so he connected the dots… and the image was now clear to him.

This sensation took a hold of his hands like a mysterious force, and consequently made them to clench around the Staff's shaft, the magical object slowly and surely turning into an improvised club.

Though this was not immediately noticed by the men, who were now at a steps' distance from him; he was still gripping the golden thing as every mage does, and not with the familiar stance of a warrior.

But Momonga didn't felt like a warrior, instead he felt anger, and disgust.

What did these men have that gave them the right to end the existence of these villagers? Were their ambitions and purpose so high that they thought they weren't deserving of repercussion?

'Disgusting,' He snarled, unable to question the hate rising in his core. Being so devoid of any purpose, Momonga was very conscious of the meaning and value of having something to live for.

So these men were the complete opposite of what he cherished and would stand for.

A lifetime might have passed during the moment when one of the men – one that was at the front row of the group, charged towards him with a long, two-handed sword, with a roar muffled by his helmet.

Momonga acted accordingly, as he lifted his Staff, gripped it by the lower parts of its shaft, and then slammed the man's side with it, feeling something give and break against his uncontrolled force, and then felt something tear, and then completely destroy itself at the Staff's unstoppable swing.

The knight's body turned into crimson splatter, and his remains were scattered over the surroundings.

This of course sowed deep fear into the men, but Momonga didn't move; the boiling sensation ordering him to stay in front of Enri, though Momonga did so without even needing the force's commands.

Strange thing was, he felt the same thing when he stumbled into Enri, when he stared into the still-people, which he know addressed as dead, even though the man was completely moving exactly like her:

Nothing. Momonga felt nothing killing this man.

This not only assured him of something, but it was feeding something dark inside him. It was like filling a glass with water – the analogy foreign to him, but strangely instinctual.

One of the men then said, "Surround it! The necromancer is using it to defend herself!" And the rows then edged around him, and Momonga spared some seconds to mull the new word, orbs still on the men, but his mind elsewhere.

_'Necromancer? Such a word that speaks so much about me, but then, why I feel this emptiness, every time I discover something else about myself?'_

He lowered his head, contemplative.

_'Am I that worthless, even to my eyes?'_

Although oblivious to battle tactics and to his surroundings just briefly, Momonga was obviously aware that he won't be able to kill the men behind him with the same easiness he did with the first.

And Enri might be killed, too, if he was careless.

Momonga wasn't sure what he felt at that. It was like feeling cold with something mildly lukewarm in his pectoral cavity.

Did he _care_ about her? Yes, he did, at least on some level. But how? Did he care about her as a fellow sapient being, or was she just a means to reach what he wanted, just like he thought mere moments ago?

What assured him that he would find whatever he wanted with her? Was his disposition to kill these men instead of running rational? Or was it another thing?

Why even bother thinking about it, anyways?

Momonga couldn't help himself to think about such things in such a situation.

The men mistook his sudden stillness for fear, and as if thinking like one, they all charged towards him, and Enri.

Momonga wasn't still sure about what he felt when he came to that realization. But his body moved without his consent, and with a complete swing, he easily destroyed the men that were in front of him, though others were on the way to replace them.

The others behind him, seven to be exact, raised their weapons when they were close enough, daring to get near him even after seeing their fellows being easily massacred by the Lich, and Enri inhaled sharply, eyes zeroing in a blade that was coming to her.

But neither pain, nor the cool feeling of the blade sinking in her shoulders came, but the smell of crisp meat and smoke instead, along with very fateful words, which were chanted with the most firm tone she ever heard in Momonga's voice:

"[Chain Lightning]."

The men didn't have time to scream, nor they could – the course of electricity instantly fried their brains and nerves almost to the point of becoming mere coal, and he knew this instinctually, despite having never seen a brain, nor heard about the nervous system of the human body.

Momonga's hand was crackling with indomitable power, and the feeling of said power rushing from his throat and chest towards his arm and hand was so raw, and so reverberating, that he grew addict to it.

And so, without any remorse, he kept chanting the spell, focusing on pointing his hand at one man and watching as three more were enveloped in the yellowish lightning, and he went on like this for what he felt was a little while.

But Bellius' troops, despite being easily decimated, with himself in these casualties, were nothing short of 100 men, as such, when Momonga ended with his onslaught, thick smoke was wafting over and through them, clouding Enri's senses as well as her breathing.

She coughed, courageous enough to open her eyes, but not prepared to behold the carnage before her.

_'Did… he did this?'_ She thought, horrified, as her eyes began to water due to irritation. Her skin became clammy and pale, and she thought she couldn't breathe.

Charred corpses littered the forest ground, their blacked and disfigured husks visible even in the greyish haze, their flesh cooked and almost smelling like pork chop, and she couldn't stop the nauseous feeling that rose up her throat.

Her retching was ignored by Momonga, who stared at his hand with a sudden sense of astonishment.

Had he found his purpose? To kill and sow terror in his enemies? To spread death against those who opposed him and threatened his existence?

…No. It wasn't that. It would be completely hypocritical of him.

Now that he thought about it, he _really _was an hypocrite. Him, preaching about the value of purpose and his hate of those who cut them short, and he was making the same thing.

…but they lost the privilege of a sacred purpose when they stained it with blood, didn't they.

_'No time for such things,'_ he thought, ultimately leaving that for later, _'We must get out of here.'_

Momonga turned around to see a still-vomiting Enri, who coughed thanks to the residual liquid and the smoke entering her lungs. He only looked, perplexed by her reaction, as she then turned around and was going to say something.

Unfortunately, she couldn't find respite, as then another kind of danger slammed against Momonga's side, with the Overlord resulting unharmed and Enri letting out a startled scream. Momonga was prepared, however, now wary of his new enemy, or rather, his enemies.

Only for a huge fireball to crash where he was, and then he heard someone shout, "Burn the heretics! Surround them with fire!" And a wave of scorching heat came upon them, in the form of tens of fireballs of varying sizes, all of them coming towards Momonga.

Enri screamed, and she futilely brought her arms to cover her face, but Momonga stood between her and the fire, his black robes serving as a cool, eclipsed shield. She was face-to-skull with the Lich, and her scared golden eyes looked straight into red orbs.

Momonga was now growing anxious. The excess of heat and smoke will make Enri lose consciousness and then her life, how he knew that even at this moment, he didn't know.

It was like déjà vu.

He then picked Enri up, surprising her and bringing a squeak out of her, and he clicked his Staff, once, and fired another bombardment of [Chain Lightning] towards the hostile newcomers.

Momonga didn't stay there to see the results of his counterattack, however, and his red orbs then seemed to fade off his eye-sockets; the sight being even creepier for the poor girl, who just pushed herself into the Lich's robes and bones.

After a moment where the fire was so close to them that Enri swore that some small embers landed on her dress, Momonga breathed out another, fateful sentence:

"[Greater Teleportation]."

And they were no more, fading away in a bluish haze of light.

_"The currents of fate are now flowing, and the parties in this game of betrayal and deceit moved their assets._

_Deprived from everything she knew, she screamed. While him, capable of getting it all, drowned in contemplative silence._

_He only survives with his own strength, his Staff being his only ally. While she longs for family and comfort, seeking the warmth of the safety of a home._

_From there, where are they destined to go?"_

**So shit goes down from now on. Expect some pretty hard struggles in the next chapters.**

**Don't worry; Papa Bones won't be the one who suffers, although I can't say the same for everyone.**

**Thank you everybody for your support!**

**Until then!**


	3. The Will to let go

The will to fight, and to let go (Part 2 of the 1st Chapter)

**Review answers! I'll do this every 3 chapters, no matter the number (though I might then upload a chapter that consists of questions and answers, if it's necessary)**

**Guest: yeah, Momonga without Suzuki xD**

**Awareness Bringer (chapter 1): Yeah, sorry 'bout that, but I felt that with Nemu I'd reveal something about Momonga real quick and I felt she would drag the story. And HELL YEAH, Nazarick would be actually even more dangerous, I think.**

**Krahe99: Yeah dude, like, why didn't other people make this kind of fics? I think it would be pretty fucking awesome if someone did a Herohero version of this fic or a Touch Me version.  
Don't wanna think about Ulbert or Nishikienrai, tho.**

**Kinoi: Yeah I will, hopefully won't get blank-headed like the other fics FUCK I WAS SO SURE MOMO & NABE PROTOTYPES WAS GOING TO WORK AAAAARGH**

**Peng nin: Thanks a lot! Yeah – I'm pretty tired of him saving the villagers, so I thought "why not?"**

**Gravityhorse: Love your fanfic, dude, I hope you do another but with Thanksgiving and well, Merry-late-Christmas! xD**

**Awareness Bringer (chapter 2): Oh yes, this is something I was very giddy about – the fucking mystery and whole complot vibe of the series, kinda wanted to make it so that both of their fates are not immediately sealed, though.**

**One to Seven: Don't worry, our Mo's not gonna be no one slave, that's for sure! He stronk! And I'll do my best to keep pumping chapters so to not lose inspiration. I CAN'T say about him conquering the New World, NOTHING ABOUT OC, THAT'S FOR DAMN SURE.**

**Paradox009: Will do friend, hope you stick around.**

**Platinumdl: Thank ye! Will deliver.**

**The plot will kick now, hope you enjoy this chapter!**

"I lost them," Said Thousand Miles Astrologer, whose faded, amber eyes darted around, looking into an image the Cardinal of Earth couldn't see, and Raymond frowned, pensive, and pressed his fist against his mouth.

_'Have they gone to their base? To the Underground, perhaps? Perhaps they have a tunneled system just like us – which is troublesome… An Elder Lich and a Necromancer, enough to kill 100 men – no matter if they were, by all means, only cannon-fodder.'_ The robed man tilted his head forwards, and then said, "How is the state of the Sunlight Scripture? Any casualties?"

A small pause, and then the blue haired diviner said, "None, though Captain Bellius' troops were completely decimated," there was no emotion in the woman's voice, though Raymond didn't say anything, opting to stare at the cobbled ground thoughtfully.

"Search around a perimeter of 10 miles, if you spot anything, send one of your assistants to inform me immediately," he concluded, and though the woman didn't say anything, Raymond didn't need her vocal acknowledgment. And so, he left the room, no longer finding any reason to be there.

He didn't take three steps after exiting the Astrologer's chambers when Zesshi appeared from the shadows, demure smile on her face and contrasting eyes zeroing on him. Raymond nodded to her, and said, "Bored?"

The answer was a long, dragged groan, utterly improper for one of the higher seats of the Black Scripture, but Raymond just chuckled at her faux-misery, keeping a steady pace as he approached the meeting room. "No worries," he said, gaining her slight attention, and he noticed the faint twitch behind her hair.

Stifling a smile, the Cardinal crossed his arms behind his back and said, "The assistance of the Black Scripture might be needed in the territories of the Re-Estize Kingdom, regarding one familiar cult."

"Nah, don't wanna find some stinky Lich and her kinky master," Was her swift response, and Raymond nodded, knowing that her heightened sense of hearing was particular trait of her… heritage, though he knew that she would comply to the Archbishop's and thereby the Church's orders.

She had to, if she wanted to be allowed to extract her revenge and for her mother's corpse to not be further desecrated by the Cardinal of Darkness. Such were the hidden shadows of the system.

The man didn't have any time left to talk with the girl, and she heeded the silent order, turning away from him and the guards that stood sideways to the door.

The mentioned pair then opened them, and Raymond was greeted with the usual sight of the Cardinals waiting for his arrival, something that further helped him to prepare for the, ehem, inevitable disaster.

Without waiting for the needless pleasantries or procedures – something that the older Cardinals seemed to be displeased about – Raymond placed his hands on the table with incredible restraint, and then said, "It seems that Cardinal Dominic has _not _informed his subordinates well."

The old man spluttered, outraged, but as he tried to muster a coherent rebuttal, the Cardinal of Fire asked with a calm voice, "What happened? Have them roused the Wise King of the Forest?"

She meant that as a light-hearted joke, the good woman, but despite her honest attempt, Raymond couldn't find himself to improve his mood as he said, "No, Zurrernon."

The temperature in the room seemed to lessen, and he was viciously satisfied that they immediately understood the implications of it.

For Zurrernon to be so close to the Sunlight Scripture during such a crucial mission… it was worrying, to say the least.

The Cardinal of Wind finally seemed to find leverage, as he then tried to save some dignity, as he said, "No worries," he straightened in his seat, looking at Raymond. "Why should we worry about two or three cultists? My forces are absolutely prepared to deal with them."

Raymond stared at the man for a long, long time, just to see if Dominic was being serious. The old man started to twitch in his seat, but he didn't break his stare. Then he said, without any sugarcoating, "The legion of 100 men we sent along with Captain Bellius as support to Nigun's mission was completely destroyed just now."

All of them stared at him with renewed attention, "Impossible," one the Cardinals said, though Raymond didn't care who, and then he said, "Worst thing is, they have escaped, unharmed, and we currently don't know where they are."

It seemed that Dominic, despite having so much information laid out against him, didn't seem to be worried, "These soldiers knew what kind of dangers they would face when they accepted to serve the Church –"

"I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT THESE MEN!" Raymond slammed a fist on the table, startling everybody, including Maximilian, who put his book down in an unusual moment of total attention.

Raymond breathed out, and then paced from one side of the room to the other, keeping a hard look over them, "Gentlemen, ladies," he started, "Let me simplify what is happening: we've been watched by an undesirable presence during what should have been a quick, clean operation."

His hands were trembling, and the Cardinals were growing more and more baffled to the man's lack of cool. "What's more, is that said undesirable presence may have connections with one of the members of the King's court, and what will happen if it such a thing turns out true?"

None of them said anything, because they knew it was a rhetorical question.

"Not only we shall have the Kingdom declare war on us, but too the Empire may seek an opportunity to take advantage of the low morale on the Royal Army and the disturbance in the courts," He stopped, and then drilled his eyes into Dominic's, speaking slowly, but with the most guttural ire coating his voice.

"Such a situation may happen, because the Cardinal of Light lacked any sense to check for the troops' discipline and ability to hide any kind of trail, to put it simply."

Silence, and Raymond then wasted no time then saying, "I need the Windflower Scripture to deploy all their forces near the cities of the Re-Estize Capital and to scout the land surrounding the Great Forest of Tobb immediately," he ordered, and then turned towards the door, already done with the meeting, despite whatever the Cardinals had in mind.

"Keep the Holocaust Scripture near the borders of the Elf Kingdom; I'll have some words with your subordinate, Cardinal Dominic." After that, Raymond was out, leaving a flabbergasted group of Cardinals behind.

The Cardinal of Darkness kept staring into the doors, and he then stood up, making the others in the room look at him, and he nodded, modestly, and was out of the room.

He only thought about one thing, and his hands were trembling with… excitement.

_'Has the Lord decided to act now? At this time? It seems precocious, but what do I know? Lord Zurshanna's intellect has been the grace that held Zurrernon's prowess at float…'_

The spectacled man faltered in his steps, and his eyes widened.

_'Has he planned for this outcome? For the Kingdom to know about the death of their greatest warrior? Surely now the Cult would have even more freedom to move through the nation… but would the Lord expect Raymond's move?'_

Maximilian shook his head, and after a swift walk through the hidden, dark corridors, he at last arrived to the doors that led to the humongous chamber of the Cathedral of Light. And as he then made his way to the carriage and left the city to go back to his designated region… he felt conflicted.

_'Too much of a coincidence, isn't it? To foresee the death of Gazeff Stronoff, and only sending two of his followers, no less! How will he convince the King to take the reins towards war?'_

As he stared through the window of his carriage at the sky, the Cardinal of Darkness felt a crooked smile pulling his lips.

Momonga and Enri appeared in midair, and began to fall on a dark, murky lake. The lich was smoking, and the girl was still screaming, clinging to his cloak for dear life.

Despite his broad figure, Momonga was… actually very light for someone of his stature and thickness. The fall was not as sudden and violent as the village girl thought, and thanks to Momonga's cape acting like some sort of parachute, they safely landed on the shallowness…

…of a swamp.

The sudden change of surroundings and height made Enri's head spin, but she just sucked it all up and forced her legs to wade through the viscous water, swatting any kind of insect that buzzed around her head.

Momonga stood some meters behind her, looking around the swamp to see if they were close to the forest edge, but in the encroaching darkness of a moonless night, even with his night vision he couldn't see the fire.

But that was not the biggest of his concerns. Enri was.

"Enri," he said, easily coming out of the water while she was still shaking the foliage of her soaked dress and legs, he beckoned her to come with his hand, "Please, come here."

"NO!" She screamed in return, shocking Momonga. She turned her head towards him, face enraged and stained with vomit, hair sticking out at all directions and her dress smoky and ripped. "I don't want to do anything else with you! I don't want you near me!"

She began to hyperventilate, and Momonga was silent. The girl brought her hands to her chest, trembling as she did, "I thought I could resist, I really did," she mumbled, "But I can't – I can't do this anymore, I don't want any of this."

The Lich stared at her, looming and imposing even in nightfall, and he then turned his sights towards his hand, and flexed it.

He now understood. It was clear since he found her.

"Alright," he said, resolute, but she didn't look up at him. What he said next did make her. "I'll relive you of this anguish."

His voice was serious, and she stared wide-eyed at him. Momonga walked towards her.

Enri stumbled back, trying feebly to keep her distance from him. The Lich was already on her, his red orbs penetrating into her golden eyes once again. She closed her eyes, waiting for oblivion to come to her.

But what only happened was Momonga taking her hand with his. And the following question, "Where is the nearest sign of civilization?"

Surprised and with no idea what he was talking about, she let out an intelligent "Huh?" and flushed with embarrassment. Patient as always, Momonga repeated his question, carefully wording it as to not confuse her, "Where is the nearest city or village?"

No, that question wasn't right. Trying again, ignoring the girl's puzzled question, the Lich asked, "Where does the person you hold romantic feelings to live?"

Although Enri took a little to understand what he was saying, she immediately blushed at the boldness of his question. But she didn't muster up any resistance, as she then pointed out,

"I don't know; we are in a forest, and there's no moon."

This left Momonga feeling a bit stupid, and realizing his oversight made Enri let out a chuckle, that then evolved into full-out laughter.

The Lich was utterly disturbed at her spontaneous reaction, even letting her hand go as she then cradled her stomach, and then went to her knees. This went through a while, with Momonga looking at her unblinkingly, and her going breathless.

Until she then started to cry and laugh at the same time. "It's priceless," she rambled, sniffles intertwining with her hiccups and coughs, "That I'm here, in a forest with an Elder Lich."

She didn't elaborate from that, and just stayed like that.

Her laughter was echoing loudly in the forest, but Momonga couldn't bring himself to shut her up, nor was he aware of the dangers that crawled in the night. Only when a horde of goblins and ogres charged to them, did Enri's joy get stifled.

The Lich was the first thing they wanted to destroy – then the woman would be theirs to play with. The Lich was weak and their numbers plenty. The Lich was alone, and the girl defenseless, so the Ogres will crush it and haul her back to the dwelling.

But Momonga's [Chain Lightning] was the first move – then Enri made his task easier as she hid behind Momonga. Momonga's Staff served as a club to crush the bigger green-skin's heads. The Lich alone was enough to kill all of them.

The earlier massacre was repeated again, and no matter what kind of numbers or races change – it was horrible, through and through.

Facing this carnage – of smoking husks and fried eyes and gaping, screaming mouth, Momonga came to a realization. His cloak encompassed the girl's whole body, and then she was soon facing the Overlord's skull as he turned around.

His voice was quiet; the first time she ever heard it being so… tender, when said:

"There's no happiness to you if both of us are together."

Momonga finally realized it – his purpose was not with her, nor was him killing the men, but it was something related to help; or at least, that's what he perceived. His voice betrayed none of his thoughts as he then said, "Small it might be, the one which you feel something shall give you a home – and a paradise."

Her eyes were glued to his orbs, and he lowered his head, almost craning his skull to look at her, so small and fragile, so underprepared to go with him, so… purposeless with him.

"Whatever you want with them, appreciate it, because it will make you keep going – to make you feel worth it." Momonga's voice was intense with solemnity, and Enri couldn't help but soak in these words.

It almost felt ridiculous, to feel something other than fear and anger towards him.

She then started to see it – a new family with Nfirea… that, that'd be nice.

Momonga nodded, as if knowing of what was she thinking, and then he elaborated his earlier question, "I see that you have all the reasons to give up – and nearly did, because of me." There was then disgust in his voice, though Enri, small and honest guilt she felt at that, knew that he was referring to himself.

"But you earlier didn't – and refused to die once, because you wanted it, you wanted to see that dream to come true, don't you?"

His voice was now eager, and she felt necessary to answer. "Yes."

"Then I'll help you," he said, to her surprise. "I seek for a purpose and you're the first living being I've ever known that has one – I feel inspired by you, because even if you were scared and lost your home, you want to find them and make another one – a home, that is." He sounded almost elated to say that, and Enri felt flush at being the focus of such admiration, as bizarre it may be.

"But my purpose is not with you." he said, and she felt a bit disheartened, because she thought she… she would stick with him a bit longer.

But the dangers that kept harassing her were related to him.

Momonga didn't ever deny that, even if she didn't ask.

"So I will relieve both of us of this nonsense, and we'll part ways."

She stared at him, even if her neck was starting to hurt.

He then brought his hand to his chest, as if making a promise, and then said,

"Tomorrow, tell me where they live, and we'll go."

The morning couldn't come faster for Enri, as Momonga waited for the Sun to rise. The Lich got her hand, as both of them stared at the sky, and Enri didn't feel so uncomfortable with the jagged feeling of his bones or how cool they were.

He protected her, even if it was in a deluded sense of dependence. But Enri didn't have to know that, just that Momonga was willing to receive a Fireball in his back just to keep her alive.

He didn't despise her. He rather was grateful, even.

He finally had a lead as to where he should go, to find his own purpose.

At last, the Sun came, and guided by its location, Enri soon found where South was, and pointed towards it.

Momonga chanted [Greater Teleportation], and both of them were gone in a blink.

However, they didn't go unnoticed, for a pair of narrowed eyes, watched from the safety of the foliage, and soon their owner scurried back to its home, carrying worrying news for their chief.

After casting [Greater Teleportation] 3 times, and waiting for Enri's nausea to fade, she and Momonga were now facing the walls of the fortress-city from the shadows of a patch of forests. None of them said anything to each other for a while, until she gathered herself, and said:

"Well," She turned towards him, "This is where we say goodbye."

Momonga nodded, and that was that. Feeling a bit awkward standing there, she then began to walk towards the city, waving slightly to the Lich, before walking with a quick pace towards the city's gates.

The Overlord watched her go, until half an hour later, she was let into the city.

He turned around, and said, "[Greater Teleportation]." And was out of there.

He appeared at the side of a dirt road, which went as long as his sight did, and he turned around, and noticed it was the same thing. He turned around again, and stared at the horizon, wondering where the way might guide him.

He walked, because he didn't knew where he was, or what he wanted. Who knows what he'll discover along the way?

Maybe his purpose lied atop an ant's colony. And he chuckled, mirthlessly, wouldn't that be ironic?

The sun was still on its way to the center of the sky, and Momonga felt… free.

He liked this feeling. Before, he thought he felt constricted. But now…

…he really felt good.

With the Sun shining on his back, Momonga traveled through the road, unaware of the dangers that may wait him, but all the same prepared for them.

From now on, he will now find it: his purpose.

**Oh yeah, baby! Travel-time is a fucking go!**

**Momonga gets the green light to do whatever he wants, and of course I feel the tentation of writing 10k words of his misadventures through all the New World… if it wasn't for a certain Cardinal making suppositions from things that don't exist.**

**Well then! Until next chapter!**


	4. The Will to get Back

Searching in the shadows

**New chapter! And with some fights and pondering-moments, to compensate for the lack of updates this weekend.**

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

The Windflower Scripture's squadrons soon arrived to their designated cities: E-Rantel, E-Pespel, Re-Estize, E-Lowell… and even scouted the land surrounding the Great Forest of Tobb.

However, even with the assistance of Thousand Miles Astrologer, the Necromancer was nowhere to be found after Bellius' troops tried to eliminate them, and soon Raymond suspected that whoever they may be, they were already aware that they may be watched.

Cue the growing anxiety of Raymond, who now went to the woman's chambers almost daily, and though she didn't mind the sudden change, Thousand Miles Astrologer requested absolute silence when questions were not due.

And it was truly a long silence whenever she worked, save for the quick, descriptive reports that she delivered. Suddenly, Raymond got a moment of clearness, and stood up from a chair brought by one of the diviner's servants. "Someone give the map of the Re-Estize Kingdom."

_'The Necromancer's last acknowledged position was inside the Forest of Tobb, which that means the only way they could evade the Sunlight's Archangel Flames was through a secret passage, or transport-related spells.'_

Raymond didn't discard the latter possibility, but the implications of Zurrernon having easily-covered means for transportation in the Kingdom was worrying – perhaps they have access to the cities' sewers?

The map was provided to him, and he laid it off over the chamber's main table, and then brought his finger over the piece of paper as his eyes darted around… _'E-Rantel is located at the south of the Forest, which it may be impossible for them to go back towards the Sunlight Scripture, then how?...' _and then widened his eyes.

"Damn it," he cursed, and then turned around towards the guard on the door, and said, "Inform the Windflower's headquarters that two of their squadrons are to change course and head towards E-Rantel."

"What's wrong, your Holiness?" Asked one of Astrologer's assistants as the guard heeded his order, and the Earth Cardinal turned around towards the map, eyes posed on the fortress-city. Raymond waved off their question, and the assistant didn't push no more.

_'A blonde, female Necromancer… I've read that in earlier reports regarding Zurrernon – all of them including a blonde-haired female in the scene…' _

Raymond then gritted his teeth, and turned towards Thousand Miles Astrologer, and said, breaking no-nonsense, "Scout E-Rantel, I have no doubt something is going to happen there."

_'Then there's Gazeff assassination and the possibility of the King discovering of the true murderers… we must urge our connections there to look for anyone who may hold possession of such information – even if we have to dispose of them completely."_

Raymond rubbed his temples, feeling that he may have a migraine coming soon, and then tapped the table's surface, still looking between the Forest and E-Rantel. And his thoughts then gradually became darker, and his face too became grim.

_'The Black Scripture may be needed for such a mission, we mustn't leave any loose ends at the end of this – the Theocracy is already draining their resources in the Elf War thanks to the foolishness of my predecessors, having ingrained the Elves' extinction in the population's mind to the point of it being a necessity!'_

Feeling pointless in that room, Raymond left Thousand Miles Astrologer without any words, and the woman didn't say anything, either.

Zesshi, as always, was behind him by the time he rounded a corner, and he turned his head towards her, and said, "I might need your assistance, would you help me?"

The half-elf looked at him with an indescribable expression, obviously troubled with anyone commanding her at all – but at last, she sighed, and looked him with reluctant tolerance. "Ask away."

"Zurrernon." He only said, and smirked when Zesshi's expression became pinched with annoyance.

Both of them walked further into the Theocracy's secret headquarters, and Raymond prayed for a semblance of a moment of relief to come and embrace him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The halls were dusty, and cold – a stark contrast to the Cult's main base, and Khajiit felt more intimate, _closer_, even, towards this weathered, unattractive pile of wreckage and bones than with whatever or whoever he came across during the last decades of his life.

A life that will, in due time, ascend to un-life – a promise of greater power and unending existence. An assured path, if it wasn't for the next words that were uttered by the Cult's emissary.

"This is nothing but failure," the old cultist said, sneering towards him, and his fellow companions bridled themselves to such disrespect, and Khajiit thanked them for the gesture. Uncaring of their reaction, the emissary said, "Two weeks, Khajiit! Two weeks we have trusted you to carry on with the Dark Ritual, and what do you bring us instead? Failures! Failures and the impending intervention of the Theocracy - or worse, of their Black Dogs!"

"I apologize," the bald man bowed slightly, feeling indignant of being scolded by, by all means and purposes, just a messenger, even if said messenger was carrying the Lord's words themselves. "We have been hindered by undesirable odds – however, the Dark Ritual's completion is assured."

"_Assured_?" the cultist spat, disbelieving, and then gestured towards their surroundings, and said, "Where's the medium? How can you assure us you have the enough manpower to carry on such a task?"

Fortunately for him, Khajiit was not unprepared for such questions, and he surprised the old geezer by answering, "We have found the perfect channel to perform the Ritual, emissary – the Crown of Wisdom itself, a magical artifact so powerful it has the magical prowess of a thousand magic casters."

"Foolish," the emissary said, "Where is it then? No – even if you indeed have it, how can we know it is genuine? The only place where you can find such a thing is-"

"Kami Miyako," the name was distasteful, but Khajiit was compensated with shutting the old man up, and then, lazily, revealed the magical item for the emissary to see in all its glory. "Borrowed from one of the Miko Princesses themselves."

The old man's brief silence was delicious, and then he said, "You'll only end as a stunted piece of flesh by the time you put it on your head," was his response, and Khajiit's smirk widened even more.

"I have that covered," was his cryptic answer, and the emissary seemed to have enough, as he then turned around, and then looked at their surroundings with twice the focus now, and asked, "And how did you got that?"

"A co-worker; a trustful partner." He easily replied, and the emissary nodded, if doubtful.

"One chance, then," the old man said, as he made his way towards the door. "And the Cult shall receive you with open arms again."

Khajiit just nodded, and the emissary would have left in peace if not for the next words he said:

"That foolish desire of yours to revive your mother is nothing but trouble; I trust you shall dispose of it as soon as the Ritual is done." The cultist's tone was imperious and condescending, and Khajiit hid his rising scorn towards the geezer with a tight, half-smile.

"I understand," the bald man said, eyes pointed straight towards the emissary's own, and with a silent scoff, the old cultist then turned around… just to walk straight into a pair of stilettos, which punctured his lungs with disturbing easiness.

"But that doesn't mean I shall comply the Lord's orders, no more." Khajiit said, and then turned around, leaving the man for dead. With some last, dreading words, the Necromancer said, "Do whatever you want, Clementine, after this, proceed to go as planned."

"Isn't too early for that?" The woman said, blades still buried deep into the emissary's body. And Khajiit just shrugged, not turning towards her.

_'Of course, you psychopath – the moment the Lord realizes the messenger isn't coming back will be the moment I die – however, my fate won't end there.'_

The cultist, already coughing blood, tried to push whoever was in front of him back with a spell, but as he opened his mouth, his tongue was immediately cut with clean-accuracy. And what happened next… well, the man died in the most horrible way possible, to put it simply.

And his murderer revealed themselves from the dark robe they hid themselves with, and a deceiving, cat-like smile, the mad-woman darted into the shadows of the catacomb's roof.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Their objective was blonde, female, and had a dress of low quality – has come from Carne Village and will no doubt pass as a refugee.

No possible way to track her down following her magical essence – the Eye had no chance of following her trail.

Possible places where she can be found:

The Graveyard of E-Rantel,  
The Downtown,  
Inside the Gates - she may be still held down by the Guards during interrogation.

If not found until nighttime proceed to go towards the Graveyard through any means, use deadly force if necessary.

Possible abilities:  
The summoning of powerful Undead such as Elder Liches and Skeletal Dragons  
High quantities of mana and casting of 4th tier spells.

With that, the Windflower Scripture ripped the information to shreds, and darted towards the city.

It was way past midday, and the sun was setting.

Behind the Windflower's squadrons, another pair of black-cloaked individuals ran behind them, their power hidden but plentiful.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

She didn't know where she was, to be honest. What Enri just wanted was to search Nfirea and be done with this – she wanted to rest, to lie down.

But it seemed life wasn't still satisfied with her misery, cue her now being seated on a chair in an unknown place – and there were no windows for her to guess how far away she was from the gates, or if she was in the underground; the candlelight made her unable to do so.

She was slowly and surely regretting not taking Momonga with her, be damned the response he would have with that.

Enri twisted her dress under the grip of her hands, scrunching her brows. After all the Undead did – saving her from all these soldiers and giving her the chance to actually be with Nfirea – the lukewarm way the guards have welcomed her was a far cry from the Lich's way…

…though why she cared? At least they didn't kill her.

She couldn't guess if she was still in the city – the carriage she was being transported with had its windows covered – or she was in the underground, the candlelight and the closed windows of this room made her unable to tell.

After she was allowed to get in the city, Enri was immediately questioned as to from where she came, and how did she came – and if did she see a group of armed men scouting near the Forest of Tobb's surroundings.

Overwhelmed, she would have replied hastily, if not for one sympathetic Guard to take her away from his more frenzied co-workers…

…and knocking her with a punch to the back of her head.

Now here she was, probably in some underground Dungeon and probably won't be released until tonight – and that is the best case scenario.

Enri felt so tired. It would have been a better idea just to go with Momonga, honestly, despite all the danger and that.

"Purpose," she said, repeating the Undead's words, and tightened her fists again, "Look at where my 'purpose' brought me."

During her increasing ire, a Guard then knocked on the door of her room, and said, "You're free."

And he didn't elaborate why or how. She was roughly hauled upright, and then pushed through the chambers until she realized she was in some kind of prison, and then, between the swarm of Guards and the influx of so different people, there he was…

Nfirea.

However, her joy wasn't immediate, as the warden then had to sign the fee's payment and then tell some words to the young man, but after that…

Enri looked like some whitish blur as she slammed against him, and without hesitation, crushed her lips against his. Nfirea tried to splutter around her lips, but after a moment of surprise, he started to reciprocate.

Though they didn't last long, for he then said, "Let's get out of here." And so they did, and Enri felt so breathless and yet so warm and tingly all over she felt she was going to die laughing… and crying.

They rounded a corner, and Enri got enough of walking and tugged on his arm, making him turn around and look at her. She hugged him, and placed her head under his chin.

"I was so scared," she mumbled in his collarbone, and he wrapped his arms around her, making her feel safe and warmth and… now knowing what Momonga meant.

"I was too," he admitted, and even despite it all she sighed against his skin, and thankfully they were sideways to the street – they weren't even outside the jail's district, but did she care? Not at all.

God, how she longed for this.

She felt a little ugly, for having given up so easily just moments ago – while Nfirea had to endure the news of her village in flames in the distance and the possibility of her being dead. And even Momonga, who was devoid of anything to live for and was still walking forwards…

"Enfi," She said, and to her imposed nickname, the alchemist hummed questioningly, both of them not ready enough to let go of each other. "I want to go home."

A moment of silence, and Enri felt a little dread that she was too abrupt with all of this, but then he caressed the back of her head, and said, "Of course, we'll go, but first I have to go to the Adventurer's Guild – I have to do something." Something that Enri accepted, as long as she could be with him.

Nfirea stole a glance at her, worried eyes looking at her from behind the curtain of his golden hair, and felt something in him weep at the sight of her clingy, lonely self.

As both of them went towards Nfirea's home, they didn't realize they were being watched by two dangerous pair of eyes – one cat-like in nature, and the other resolute and ready.

It was the cat-natured one who moved first, hidden in the increasing shadows of the city, darting between the buildings with top-accuracy aiming towards the blonde haired kid.

And then, a moment later, the Windflower Scripture moved next, already positioning themselves to kill the blonde-haired woman – now identified thanks to the warden's generous supply of information.

The three of them – the Scripture, Clementine and the couple – were sure something big was going to happen… but their expectations were completely decimated, for the bloodbath that looming over them.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The couple entered the Guild first, while the creeping parties went to position themselves at varying points of the block…and then, as expected, Clementine was found by one of the Windflowers.

And she readily ripped their throat out with her stilettos, and she cursed, recognizing the emblem etched beneath the cloak they wore. _'How did they found me?'_ Her eyes darted around, looking for any mismatching silhouette atop the buildings –

-and narrowly missed a throwing dagger sinking into her eye, grazing her cheek instead. Clementine jumped backwards, cursing as she then turned around to flee - just in time to see that another pair had come behind her.

Without any words, the Windflower charged at her, without any chances to let her surrender – which was fine for her, really. She impaled one of them straight through the eye – and dodged another pair of daggers flying at her side –

-but instead something slammed into her gut, making her wheeze and sending her flying into roof at the other side of the street. Clementine crashed against the tiles harshly, but didn't falter as she stood upright again.

'Fuck! That isn't a Windflower grunt – that was too powerful – no way.' She didn't have any time to think anymore, as the same one who managed to score a hit against her was jumping towards her.

She ducked beneath a swipe and then attempted again to flee – the point was to get in and go, but it seemed the Theocracy had other plans for that.

_'Are they here for the kid? Or are they looking for the Crown of Wisdom? Yeah, that must be it, but how?! I was sure they wouldn't track me down – I'm the best at that, dammit!'_

Another dagger and another try at escaping.

_'They're gonna surround and that's when I'm fucked – the Adventurer's Guild will be notified no doubt, and we don't have time for that.'_

"Fuck," she muttered, utterly furious with the thought and with the situation overall, and, discarding the consequences of it all, Clementine made her way back to the Graveyard, the Windflower Scripture hot on her heels.

_'Maybe I'll twist this to my advantage – Khajiit'll be so busy killing these assholes while I just go away.'_ Clementine had barely a chance to avoid _another_ damn dagger digging into her back. _'Well, that's if I get there.'_

As the first squadron and one Black Scripture member followed her, the remaining units of the Theocracy were still waiting for the Necromancer and their… co-worker, to come out. And when they did – after a lengthy procedure that had Nfirea pay some silver coins for it – Enri and he were outside the Guild.

Then they went to the young man's store, unaware of the cloaked figures hovering on the buildings and creeping from the shadows. They were close to go inside… until a group of five or seemingly more people came and took them off the ground.

Enri would have screamed, if not for the punch in the back of her head. Then everything was black.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Khajiit knew something was wrong by the time Clementine didn't come back after a few hours.

There was no container, and surely the Lord has send out some of his forces towards here as he waited for her.

No doubt that foolish woman is up to something, and Khajiit slowly, but surely, felt the rising necessity to just come out of the crypt and kill her – to throttle her throat with his bare hands.

He snarled, "Prepare the Ritual," he said, and his followers looked at him with some semblance of doubt, one of them said:

"What about the container? Will we proceed without it?" A nod from Khajiit, and the follower asked no more.

Runes were drawn in the floor, blood spilled in the middle of said runes, chants began to spill out of their mouths and Khajiit stood in an altar, surrounded by his followers, Crown of Wisdom raised over his head as he then closes his eyes.

'Soon, soon the power will be mine, and my mother's demise will be nothing but a stain.'

The moment the man placed the object on his own bald crown, his eyes went into the back of his head, and he started to let out agonized, breathy sounds.

"Master Khajiit!" His followers cried, but he answered none of them… as his frame then caved in, and his robes were slowly being destroyed from the edges towards his chest, Khajiit let out a haggard, pained roar as his arms, chest and head were inflated to the maximum capabilities of his anatomy.

And then…

"OOOOOOOAAAAAAARRRRRRGH!"

The man's body exploded, and from his vaporizing insides a dome of full, necromantic power imploded outwards, incinerating everything in its path.

The followers didn't even have time to scream, and their bodies soon met the same fate as their master.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was one hour after midday, when Momonga had to stop for a while, surely miles away from E-Rantel. He didn't know where he was going.

Momonga has been staring his Staff for quite the while, sitting atop a humongous rock that was in a river's path, with the flow of the water serving to make the Lich at ease.

_'What else can I achieve with this power?'_

After some time walking, Momonga realized that his purpose couldn't only be found by just walking: it would take too much time, and probably would do something foolish in the meantime – he couldn't help it, his paranoia was constant even in these moments of respite.

Perhaps he had to decipher it, think over it.

So here he was, meditating… over nothing, to be honest.

Momonga had too much to learn, it seemed. He didn't feel bothered by it, and he was grateful – he didn't know how to proceed, he just… acted. He felt he was doing the right thing, but nothing seemed to convey that kind of feeling, at all.

Oblivious to his growing anxiety, Momonga's concentration on the spell – which was it? He forgot again – fluttered, and the growing ball of magic dispersed. The Lich let out a frustrated sound, and started again.

How did he invoke such power – the Lightning - in that time of necessity? Was there a requirement? Did he need the company of another living, sapient being, like Enri? He let it go so easily – and it felt so intoxicating…

Momonga stretched a hand forward; red orbs absent from his eye-sockets, and then said, "[Chain Lightning]."

Nothing happened. He tried again, envisioning the same arching lightning he summoned against the men… a fickle of electricity, and nothing else.

He stopped, and then examined his hand, feeling useless. His purpose was no doubt related to his power – but how? He couldn't even control it properly; he only knew how to move with [Greater Teleportation].

Does he not have enough control?

Or did his power only come forth when he really needed it, hence his inability to cast such a deadly thing?

He had no answer to that. Momonga didn't feel surprised at that.

No, that wasn't that.

_'My power not only is to destroy…'_ He flexed his hand again, and then, considered… _'Perhaps helping those in need is the way to discover why I'm here?'_

Perhaps that was it. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

He remembered Enri, how he helped another living being, and felt… empowered, to say the least.

Mildly satisfied with his conclusion, Momonga jumped out of the river and went back to the road, pace steady and sure. The Sun didn't seem to stray too far away from its position in the middle of the sky, so Momonga could skip some chunks of land before nightfall.

Or at least, that was his intention, when he suddenly stumbled into a caravan.

The people's reaction, while he came to understand that he was _very _different to them, was… radical, in his opinion. The women started to scream in terror, and the men were frozen in their places, as the other men with swords and armor were wary and apprehensive to approach him.

Momonga stared them, mulling their reactions. And then he walked to the side of the road, straying far away from the caravan.

The passengers and riders didn't know what to do in the face of such a strange behavior, and after a moment, Momonga had enough of their tiptoeing, and instead made his way around them, careful to keep the men with swords in his sight.

_'It seems that my presence is undesired._' He felt nothing towards this realization, and he kept moving forward.

But he couldn't help the thought that came to him, _'If I was different, or if I told them of my predicament, would have them welcomed me with open arms?'_

He looked down at his body. _'Why was I created like this?'_

He didn't know, nor did he care. At least at the moment.

When he was faraway both with the people of the caravan and with the world, they looked at each other, utterly puzzled that such an undead monstrosity didn't rip them to shreds.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Amber eyes were looking straight at the dark figure, faint surprise coloring them as it then swerved off its path and far from the caravan.

Thousand Miles Astrologer watched how this Lich just increased the distance between its Master and itself, and the woman couldn't help but ask herself if the Undead broke itself from its master's influence.

It would be both an embarrassing slight to the Necromancer and a curious, if utterly terrifying thing to think about, especially with this Lich.

The one who could slay 100 men without any problem, just to defend its master. Though it didn't seem to care now that said master was now apprehended by the Windflowers; more proof as to why this Lich seemed so… independent now.

Though the more pressing matter of the one and only Clementine being close enough to the Necromancer was indeed more important that watching over a lone, stray Lich, Thousand Miles Astrologer couldn't help it.

It didn't matter anyway – as interesting it may be, it was still a menace, no matter if it was now aware…

Did it?

In all her years, Thousand Miles Astrologer has never seen such a thing – an Undead that could think, save for Vampires or _that _Dragon Lord, so of course, it would have been unfortunate to dispose of such a discovering…

…or, perhaps they shouldn't.

"Cardinal Raymond," she said, and by the muffled sounds of silk against wood, she knew she had his attention, "I spotted the Lich, and it's going towards southwest… towards the Abellion Hills."

The man's answer took a moment, but when he said it, it was definitive. "Send the designated squadron – they are not to half-ass the operation."

The tapper of feet going away was obvious and she stood there, watching it, and she narrowed her eyes.

_'Just what are you…?_

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

**Enter Clementine and Khajiit, a comfy duo, no doubt!**

**End Khajiit, a tragic failure, failure!**

**Man, Enri and Nfirea are in so deep shit I feel bad for them… not really lmao**

**So, dudes! I'll take a break each weekend and to polish the plot to avoid any asspulls or holes, so don't expect updates these Fridays, Saturdays or Sundays.**

**Thank you for all the reviews, follows and favorites! Damn, I feel loved!**

**Until the next chapter!**


	5. The Will to Survive

The Will to Survive

**Chaos slowly reigns in E-Rantel, turmoil rises in the streets – and a looming menace appears from the darkness… meanwhile, disturbance reaches the Cardinals with a uncomfortable realization…**

OOOOOOOOO

At last, Nfirea slumped on the ground, face swelled and marred, bruises covering spots all over his body. Tears streamed over Enri's face as she screamed her throat raw, and she franticly struggled against her captors' grasp, to no avail.

"We won't kill him, we'll promise you that." The one who knocked Nfirea down said, and then picked up his body.

"I swear to God, I don't know anything!" She said, clenching her eyes as she expected another slap… but nothing came, and reluctantly, Enri opened one of her eyes, to see her interrogator clenching the place between their eyebrows.

"Alright," they said, relenting, and Enri finally could give against the pushing feeling at her throat, and coughed rashly, spraying blood all over the floor.

"Sleep her–we'll take her back to the headquarters," the man said, and Enri didn't have any chance to avoid the hand that placed itself on her head.

And everything was dark.

OOOOOOOOOO

Clementine was, once again, surrounded by the Windflowers, and the Black Dog was the one who charged first against her, but she only scowled – too slow, yet too beefy for her to slice his body to shreds – and she weaved between his strikes – she didn't even bother herself to see what kind of weapon that was, only that it was sleek, and long.

She could sneak under his arm and slice the spot beneath his arm and let him bleed himself dry – but before she could do that, there was a boom.

A really big **boom**, one that even shook her teeth and almost made her bite her tongue off. It was accompanied by a violent earthquake, and she whipped her head towards the source of the explosion.

It was from the cemetery.

_'Was Khajiit dead?'_ But before she could further go with that train of thought, a huge, brilliant dome made of purple energy expanded at an exaggerated pace, and she stepped back, looking gradually upwards until she was sure the dome reached the clouds.

And she took her chance.

"[Full Throttle]." She whispered, and then shot towards one of the least-aware looking of the group.

The Windflower didn't stand a chance, and their head was lopped off of their body. Clementine was then a black blur as she darted over the buildings with [Pace of the Wind].

Her other chasers would have gone behind her, but then… there was a sound; the most horrible, blood-curling screech they would ever hear in their entire lives.

The warped shriek of a herd of goats thundered from far away, and it was then, when the Sun already settled.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Raymond was sitting in this Cardinal Conference, fingers intertwined in front of his face, as he stared thoughtfully towards the nothingness. Everybody knew he shouldn't be disturbed in this state, lest they be responsible of ruining a genius scheme in the making.

"The situation in the Re-Estize Kingdom should have been solved by now," Ginedine said, and he was then replied by Cardinal Dominic, who seemed actually grave and concentrated, and said:

"The Kingdom wouldn't be a problem if it wasn't due to E-Rantel's location being so close to our borders," the old man sighed, and then rubbed his temples, "It seems that the tactical advantage of attacking the exact point where the Empire and the Kingdom's frontiers clashed was a mistake."

That could be just a remark, and not an attempted slight towards Raymond.

Berenice steered the conversation off that track and went through more safe waters – at least, ones that couldn't rise a hostile reaction of the man – she was compassionate, and knew what kind of stress the Cardinal of Earth went through.

His predecessor wasn't lucky to reach retirement in time.

"Speaking of the Empire, our emissaries are ready to go once again towards the Imperial Capital, but I think the time's not quite proper." She said, and everybody in the room nodded – an unauthorized attack on the Kingdom's borders by Baharuth Knights no less - just screamed their doing, and worst if the Necromancer actually propagated the information to one member of Re-Estize's Royal Court.

The Argland Alliance will no doubt offer a triumvirate in order to get rid of the Theocracy, and further adding the Elf Kingdom's pressure… the results would be catastrophic.

And everything took roots from just one mistake.

No wonder Raymond looked like he was having a 24/7 migraine, and Berenice shook her head, her motherly nature longing to sooth the man – but she knew he wouldn't allow anyone to help him.

He was that stubborn.

"Zurrernon will **not **have that advantage over us," Said Yvon, twice as acerbic when addressing such a matter – Zurrernon, specifically – and he then said, "If needed the Clearwater Scripture must intervene in the Royal Court – even if it means starting an all-out war between the Kingdom and the Empire."

"You have none the authority or the judgment to say such a thing," Ginedine growled, narrowing his eyes at such a suggestion, and Dominic seemed too willing to back up Yvon's claim, the old geezer.

At last, Raymond said. "It could be a possibility – one that holds weight, no doubt."

Silence followed his statement.

"_What?_" Ginedine said, disbelieving, and his reaction too was shared with Berenice, while Yvon and Dominic where not expecting his… half-assed admission.

Maximilian, meanwhile, was just flipping the pages of his book, but the way he stilled just when he was doing so at Raymond's statement told his interest in the matter.

"Just think about it," the Cardinal of Earth said, tapping his finger on the table while he cradled his chin with his other hand, "Not only the Empire, the Kingdom and the Alliance might take arms against us – don't forget the demi-human tribes, and the non-human colonies." He lifted two fingers at the last part, and then, he went on.

"For that we would need to unleash Zesshi just to keep on with the Dragon Lords, but then we are confronted by the Imperial Knights, and the whole conscripted army of the Kingdom." For that, he lifted two fingers.

"Then, if spontaneous skirmishes with adventurers were to happen, it might raise further hostility from the Guild – and let's not get started with Zurrernon."

A whole hand, one which all the Cardinals were watching with clearness downing in their eyes.

He sighed, and then his face grew even more somber, and said, "What Yvon said is not without merit."

"We'll really have to sacrifice thousands – millions even – just to keep the Theocracy and the Gods' legacy safe."

If a pin could fall in that moment, it would be heard. The other, most emphatic Cardinals – Berenice and Ginedine – felt chills running up their spine, while Dominic and Yvon looked straight-faced, nodding with Raymond's words.

Maximilian hid the lower portion of his face behind his book, eyes narrowed behind rounded glasses, and mind whirling with unlimited possibilities… and an urge to inform his Master.

Raymond stood up, looked at each Cardinal straight at the eyes, and then looked towards Ginedine, and said, "Prepare the Clearwater Scripture to be dispatched at Re-Estize's Capital City."

He turned around, and muttered under his breath, unheard by them all, "Gods help us."

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Momonga watched, standing on the top of a cliff thanks to [Fly], as the Sun finally settled on the horizon, and he would have felt solitude with the sight…

…if it not were for the sudden sense of foreshadowing he felt, as well as the sudden, but shining dome that expanded towards the sky – even visible in the increasing density of the clouds and the creeping nighttime.

And that is where Enri was.

Momonga felt himself go rigid as the realization came to him – have the men who were chasing them reach Enri? Is she dead? Was she unable to fulfill her purpose?

He wasted no time with such foolish thoughts, and then chanted, reinvigorated, "[Fly]" And made to soar the sky towards the city – the path crystal-clear to him.

Something called Momonga from there – and he felt, no he _was _sure he needed to go there. It was an impulsive thought – a reflex move, but it couldn't be that.

Was it there where he could find his destiny? Or was it just another step?

Momonga was so conflicted with the pull and his thoughts that the sudden, fiery explosion just above him made him stop in shock, and he then turned his head towards the ground, feeling gradually provoked by such an offense.

The swelling feeling that took ahold of him at the time in the forest now was roaring inside him, and he slowly, and surely, floated downwards.

And spotted a group of people assorted in a tidy, well-maintained formation; a group that was now shooting dozens of spells towards him.

Every single magic attack bounced off his cloak and skeleton effortlessly, and the roaring sensation was now familiar to him, and he finally felt clarity in his mind, as he then pointed towards the center of the group with a bony finger, and readily, said:

"[Napalm]."

A fiery pillar of fire surged from deep underground, coating the ground surrounding the hellish geyser in flames, and the group scattered hastily, narrowly avoiding a horrible death… save for one.

The same one, who Momonga pointed at, was now dead; now nothing but a mere stump of charcoaled skin and roasting armor.

It would serve as a warning, and he said, "Do not follow me."

And with that, he again rose towards the sky, and flied towards E-Rantel.

The designated group of the Theocracy, however, was not so ready to let him go. And so, they followed his trail – using whatever means they had on their possession to go towards E-Rantel.

They wished the 'Monster' could have accompanied them, if they knew this damn Lich could fly.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Does it know how to fly?" A flabbergasted Raymond asked, and Thousand Miles Astrologer nodded, with the faintest, sardonic smile on her face.

If he was asked, the Cardinal of Earth would have said that seeing a blind-looking woman smiling after seeing one of her peers being killed by _fire _casted by a Lich… he wouldn't be surprised if it was Thousand Miles Astrologer.

This woman has seen so many things that have now rendered her dead to the suffering of others… and Raymond shook his head, discarding these thoughts.

"It's now flying towards E-Rantel – the designated team is following it." She said, and then she rolled her eyes diagonally – the motion making Raymond dizzy, but for her it seemed like second-nature.

But he then didn't expect for her eyes to widen – and he was startled when she gasped.

"What's wrong?!" He said, and felt Zesshi's immediate presence behind the door, but he knew she wouldn't interfere directly if Thousand Miles Astrologer wasn't in impending danger.

"E-Rantel," The woman said, her hands clutching her chest-piece, and Raymond grew disturbed as he beheld this side of the powerful seer, and he said, "What's wrong, Thousand Miles, what is it?!"

"A monster," she said, faintly. And her skin grew pale and moist, her breath coming in gasps – and Raymond couldn't help it anymore, and he turned towards the door, making sure he was out of the way, and said, "Zesshi!"

"On it," she said, already having opened the door and darting straight to the woman and grasping her head, and she then said, "Close your eyes – close them _now_."

Thousand Miles Astrologer clenched them shut, and Zesshi readily made a chopping motion with her hand, knocking the woman senseless and securing her in her grasp. Both of them waited for a reaction – a twitch, or even a seizure…

…but nothing came, and both of them sighed, with Raymond slumping over his chair.

"Gods-damn," he muttered, pinching the space between his eyes, "We already lost a Miko Princess and a Crown of Wisdom – we can't afford to lose another, not at this time."

Zesshi looked at him, quite strangely even, and said, lamely, "Yeah, you're right."

He sighed and made a strange motion with his hand, "I appreciate your attempt to feel sympathetic – but don't bother yourself, really."

At this, Zesshi nodded, and then laid Thousand Miles on the ground, and her servants – who were standing against the wall in caution, could now stop holding their breath. "What now?" She asked, and crossed her arms, and Raymond actually realized she came in without her War Scythe.

It was a relief – the holy artifact, for all precious and valuable it was, was a ridiculous thing in terms of size and weight, and he found it amusing that such a weapon would be wielded by such a little girl –

"Hey, stop daydreaming," Zesshi said, exasperated, and Raymond exhaled loudly, and then said, "I only needed to calm down, Zesshi, no need to be hasty."

"Well, she said there was a monster out there," she pointed out, and then frowned, "Isn't a team right there actually? I remember that you sent them towards there just some hours ago."

"Yes," and he sighed, realization dawning on him, and he placed a hand on his face. "The Necromancer has no doubt done whatever they wanted – _damn it._"

The woman blinked, and then scratched the top of her hair, and then said, after a minute, "Then send me."

"What in the blazing pits of Hell are you saying?" He immediately answered, and she shrugged, and said, "C'mon, you're spending too many resources and wasting too much time dealing with _these_ people."

It wasn't a mystery who she was referring to, and Raymond nodded, but then said, "Yes, but our advantage is that you're a secret, Zesshi – no offense intended, but you're supposed to not exist."

"Then we'll use a carriage or something – I won't go _alone_." She said, as if it was obvious, and he then said, growing frustrated.

"Zesshi, we aren't supposed to deal with that – we're supposed to deal with the Necromancer that is holding the information."

"But haven't they achieved what they wanted summoning whatever the fuck is out there? That too means that the Windflowers have failed, and _that _means –" She accentuated that bit as she saw Raymond preparing an answer, and then finished, "- that you'll fail in your mission, and everybody is gonna die."

For the first time in a while, Raymond was rendered without an answer – and he wouldn't be scummy enough to resort using his higher position on her.

Zesshi would go anyways; regardless if there would be any authority opposing her decision.

He sighed, and palmed his forehead, "Gods forbid you," he said, not really meaning it, and then said, "Alright – the Archbishop will no doubt have my head at the end of this, and I'll be lucky if I'm not burned at the stake by this."

"But to Hell with it, you can go."

Zesshi smirked, but then her face fell with disappointment as he said, "Take the Captain of the Black Scripture with you – Thousand Wall Shield and Divine Chain too."

"You're just telling me that just to mess with me, aren't you?"

He pointed at her with one finger, "_You, _you stubborn girl, are the one that is messing with me." He then made a shooing motion, "Go and pack your things – you shall depart in thirty minutes," he looked towards one of the servants, and said, "Go and inform Maximilian – let him know of Zesshi's _plan_-" said woman scoffed at him, "- and have a group of priests tend to Thousand Miles' condition."

The servant heeded his order, and Zesshi still stood there, looking at him, and Raymond lifted an eyebrow, confused, "What is it?"

"I won't fail, you know," she said, unusually serious, and then elaborated, "I won't let you down; I'll take care of that Necromancer."

He stared at her for a brief moment, and then smirked, and said, "Of course you will," his tone was genuinely trustful, and then said, "Now go, don't waste any time."

She nodded, and Zesshi was out of the room.

Raymond sighed, and then mumbled, "I want a bottle of wine and a piece of bread with cheese."

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"I understand, please, let Zesshi know that all my subordinates are hers to command."

The servant nodded, bowed, and left his office hastily. And Maximilian smirked, narrowing his eyes. 'Foolish half-breed, not even you can disrupt the flow of the Master's schemes…'

Maximilian stood up, already done with his paperwork, and then picked up his favorite book – _'Chronicles and Studies of the Eight Greed Kings – Volume 3'_ – and left the headquarters, and was greeted by the sight of the night sky and the stars.

He made the same process – carriage, half an hour to his designated district – and then made his way to his manor.

When he was certain he was truly alone in his chambers, Maximilian kneeled, and then began to draw a circle composed of runes and magical objects –perfect to disrupt the flow of a seer's sight – and then opened a scroll…

And after a puff of smoke, a robed figure stared right back at him, and promptly said, "**Inform me."**

"My Lord, I'm delighted to communicate these news…" And Maximilian went to do his real work.

A loyal servant of the last God, an emissary of the second advent of the Lord of this World.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Khajiit couldn't feel his body – he felt like he was flying. He blearily opened his eyes, and he was met by darkness.

_'Am I dead?'_ Was his ludicrous thought and he then felt resigned_. 'Have I failed to carry on the Dark Ritual?'_

Deep in this darkness –one in which he grew to feel cold and isolated– there stood, or rather floated, the embodiment of death and decay – one whose deep, glowing eye sockets stared right at the quivering man in front of it.

It was too tall, and too wide to be just a mere Lich, but its presence was unlike any other Undead Khajiit had ever meet in his entire life.

**"I welcome you to this desolate realm – to my paradise of silence."**

He didn't even know what to say in response, but fortunately, the Undead was too merciful for going on, as if feeling his awestruck state.

**"You have chosen - in this place and time, to summon me. Let me know your wish, man of secrets and unbidden desires, and it shall be fulfilled."**

"Y-You –" Khajiit gulped on a dry throat, and he tried again, feeling deep reverence towards this pinnacle of power and forbidden knowledge, "Who are you, if I may ask?"

The embodiment of Death was silent for a moment, and Khajiit feared the worst, but it then said:

**"They know me by many names – names that I do not care for, but names that have rendered mine lost in the mixed knowledge of civilization –and ones that now have stranded me here – in this collective imprisonment of these Crowns…**

**…but they once knew me as Zurshanna, a Lord of Death – an emissary of Oblivion."**

The embodiment's voice was deep, too deep, and it echoed far away in the vast darkness – but Khajiit didn't see it talk or move away from its position, too entranced by the oozing might of this being, and he bowed deep towards this true representation of Undeath.

"My Lord, too much time have I spent to find a way to weave between the barriers of life and death to resurrect my most loved one," Khajiit lifted his head, staring pleadingly towards the Lord of Death, and then said, "I wish to be granted enough power to take her back to this world! So we both can live for eternity – unbounded by the whims of mankind!"

Silence followed his request, and Khajiit feared for having offended the mighty Lord – but his expectations were shattered when **Zurshanna** then answered, **"In this place and time – I can grant you such a thing – but first, there are conditions to this contract of eternal existence and unlimited, untamed power," **It then lifted one bony hand towards him, and pointed its index finger towards his head.

**"Your humanity shall be forgone in exchange for greater power, your beliefs and desires will change in tandem with your ascension, and most of all, whatever path destiny has bounded with you, will be forever gone from your grasp."**

Khajiit felt an uncomfortable sense of hesitation when he heard 'humanity'… what did it meant? Will his body and human mind be sacrificed? Will his love towards his mother die? He clenched his fists, but didn't voice any of his internal conflicts.

**"Do you still wish to carry on, with this daring offering? "**

There was silence following its question, but before the Lord of Death could go back to its slumber and let the man be gone, Khajiit raised his head, eyes desperate and face frozen in determination.

"I do."

His words echoed through the darkness, and **Zurshanna **then lifted its arms to its sides, as it then claimed, **"It will be done."**

And then Khajiit felt, for the second time in his life, how his body then imploded from inwards, and the last thing he felt before utter cold, was joy.

For his wish to go back to see his mother was close to be fulfilled.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

In the city of E-Rantel… a dark, cold Hell was laying waste on the streets. And this Hell – this embodiment of terror and corruption and death – was manifested in the twisted, creeping form of a lump of black ooze and hundreds of gaping, shrieking mouths.

The sound of a goat screeching in the night could be hear even from up in the walls – whose guards were paralyzed by the unbounded horror, and the bloodbath carrying on the city.

Bodies were crushed, pools of blood were a common sight, and columns of smoke were raising high into the sky.

And between this madness… the Swords of Darkness were herding the citizens far from the hellish, humongous creature – which even in the dark, indigo blue of the remaining light on the sky, could be seen with perfect clarity.

"Gods above…" Lukrut mumbled, eyes wide and shoulders trembling with unadulterated fear.

"This way!" Peter gestured towards a road that leaded to the outer gates, "Don't stop! Watch for the children!"

"Peter!" Ninya shouted, and said man turned towards him, and the magic caster turned completely towards the swordsman, "We have to go! The city's lost; we don't have a chance against that thing!"

The monster, as if on cue with his words, screeched that horrible noise again, and the group covered their ears.

"Damn it!" He said, and then gestured to his team, "Alright, the people here have evacuated – Dyne, have you seen someone else?"

The druid shook his head, face hardened, and Peter nodded, "Let's get the hell out of here, we can't do anything else."

The group then made to go… until they heard a faint, distant sound.

An agonized moan.

Ninya turned around; eyes wide as he recognized that sound, and said, "Guys! There's someone there!" He pointed towards an alleyway, and was going to walk there, until Lukrut grasped his arm.

"Are you fucking crazy? The city's in chaos! We don't know if there are some crazy people around here!"

Ninya struggled his arm out of the rogue's grasp, and then drilled his finger on his chest, "You don't tell me that! There's someone there that we can save and the only thing you can even think of is that we could be killed?!"

"Guys! Calm down! We don't have time for this!" Peter said, only for him to gasp and step back. Ninya, Lukrut and Dyne turned around…

…and there, was an amalgamation of a man with… whatever else; a black, viscous liquid dropped of the thing's mouth in copious amounts.

Ninya noticed that the thing had three arms… and four legs, but he couldn't voice this, for the magic caster's voice was inexistent in the face of such a thing.

Only Lukrut, perhaps stupidly or bravely, throwing a dagger to where one of the thing's eyes where, made them act instantaneously.

Ninya casted [Magic Arrows] and then dived to the side and the thing then slammed one of its elongated arms where he was standing, and he ran to the opposite direction – where the sobbing was.

He heard the ruckus behind him – heard Peter shouting to him, Dyne chanting another spell, and Lukrut brandishing a few more daggers – but didn't dare to turn around, and he then went through the alleyway, raising his voice as he did so, "Are you okay?!"

Another sob, another pair of steps from her, "Please, calm down," he said, already pinpointing the source of the sobs. "I'm going to –"

The sight before him rendered him speechless.

There were bodies – corpses of robed people, scattered in the tight corridor of the alleyway in all sort of manners and ways and – _'My God.'_ In an unusual display, he covered his mouth with his hand in a very feminine fashion, as he realized that these people had their eyes gouged, their faces stretches in horror…

… And he then darted his frightened eyes towards the source of the sobs.

A bloody Enri cradling an equally bloody Nfirea was stretching her arm towards Ninya, and with a rasped voice, she pleaded, "Please, help me…"

Ninya could only stare at the carnage in front of him for a while more, and then turned towards the couple… and moved.

OOOOOOOOOOO

It was nightfall, and her eyes were half-closed as she cradled her War Scythe against her frame, and the constant bump of the carriage made Zesshi sleepy, though she surely won't get any rest, if the subtle sneers towards her were any hints.

"How long until we get there?" She asked, because after slaying the Necromancer and the Lich – another objective of them thanks to Raymond reminding her of the Lich sudden change of trails - they had to go to E-Rantel to stop a Monster of causing further casualties... well, they should have done that some hours ago, and Zesshi scoffed loudly, and this single gesture seemed to boil her peers' blood even further.

"Soon," The Captain said, and she nodded, and went back to rest.

Whatever, is not like she wanted to go with them, why Raymond even wanted to make her do here? She killed Necromancers that could summon even 6 Skeleton Dragons in a single move, so what did this one do to get so much attention?

Did he know something about them that she didn't? It wouldn't be the first time she was screwed over by her superiors, but she… Zesshi shook her head, one corner of her mouth lifting into a smile.

For fuck's sake, it's Raymond she was talking about – of course he would screw her over just to chuckle himself to sleep.

The damn bastard, Zesshi chuckled with genuine amusement. It was a while before shit would go down, actually, so Zesshi then closed her eyes, and gripped her Scythe's shaft, grounding herself.

"We're close." The Captain raised his voice again, and Zesshi nodded, and just stepped out of the carriage, which was still in movement, and then darted towards the city's walls, ignoring whatever calls she received from her peers.

And up she went, jumping over the wall like if it were her own playground, and she was like this, enjoying the feeling of the wind against her face… until she spotted, over a brothel of all things, the thing she was looking for.

"Got you," she said, silently, and made to cut its head and go back to the carriage… if it were not for it stopping her Scythe midway.

Her surprise was unparalleled.

And to her increasing shock, it then talked, as green orbs drilled into her opposing eyes.

**"Ah, the Black Dogs of the Theocracy – your time is nigh!"**

OOOOO

**Oh yes, I did that.**

**SO! I'm actually very excited for the next chapter, so I think I'll write for tomorrow's afternoon.**

**Thank you everybody for reading this! I feel loved.**

**See ya!**


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